Now It Can Be Told: Sheldon J. Plankton eventually came of age in Bikini Bottom when he was told he was Whistler’s Brother. It diminished his self-esteem such that he literally shrank in size and turned to nefarious-ness: A retrospective episode of “SpongeBob SquarePants” portrays his true connection to the Plankton Family genealogy, as he reunites with Ma Plankton. (Get it? Got it? Good!)
Everybody loved Raymond. He was the most handsome child in his class at school. Bright, energetic, studious and polite. His mother quietly glowed with pride whenever in his presence. Whatever the future held, the present was a slice of heaven.
All dressed and ready for his first day at school, Junior, while feeling rather natty in his new duds, was tied in knots with apprehension. The Pepto-Bismal hadn’t helped, and now he feels a bit woozy, almost as if his oatmeal with cinnamon maggots were about to make a reappearance.
No matter how many times mother coached him, or how many bullying scenarios they play acted out, he just couldn’t shake this sense of impending doom, like the world was closing in on him, like he was falling down a well, like he was a toothpick boy inside an overstuffed marshmallow suit. Only his mother’s embrace would tamp down the terror, keep his heart from pounding through his chest, stop the uncontrolled sweating so it wouldn’t ruin his new onesie. How would he ever make it through the day? Stuffed inside a locker? Run up the flagpole by his underwear? Getting pants’d in the lunchroom?
Running through the endless scenarios only made it worse, of course. The teachers didn’t even seem to care, either, in fact, he swore they purposely turned the other way. Wasn’t the school motto All for One and One for All? All their kind only, it seemed. That he was smarter than they, even most of the teachers, didn’t help the situation. It was no comfort to see through their ignorant, petty ways and to pity them in their plight. He felt he had to constantly hide away who he was, what he was capable of, to the point that he often doubted who he really was or if it all was worth it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on like this. He feared he might just wither away and die, or worse yet, lash out in frightened anger and reveal what he tried so hard to keep hidden from them. It wouldn’t matter how incredible his talent was, they would only use it as fodder to further ostracize and belittle him. And where would he be then? What would he have achieved? No, better to keep it to himself, but this withering pain was so much to bear.
How could he maintain his sanity and his will to live? How could he endure to prove them all wrong, and to finally make his mother’s life a bit less brutal and undignified? He didn’t really want to hurt anyone; sure it would be great to see them choke on their words, but all he really wanted was to be away from there and to be done with their tedious banality. He had trouble seeing a way out, a way through it all, though. Some days he could barely even get out of bed; didn’t feel like eating or even breathing much. There must be something to break this stifling oppression? But what, his mother could do nothing but try and comfort him, his counselors were indifferent, even the holy man in town seemed to brush him off as delusional.
It was already three a.m., his alarm would be sounding soon, and another day of dread would begin. He had worried the night away with little chance of sleeping now, so he lie there in the silence and stared at the plastered walls, his nightlight casting light upon the trowel textured valleys and hills of his bedroom landscape. If he let himself stare dreamily without intent, it would often morph into a village or metropolis scene and he could amuse himself with the goings on. He almost thought he could hear someone speaking. Wait, was that his mother’s voice? No, surely she was still asleep, and it was clearly coming from inside the room. Very small, at first, and it sounded like it was trying to get his attention. What was it saying? So hard to make out.
While all things seemed perfect, he couldn’t help but feel like a monster. Nothing in his demeanor or countenance would betray it. Even his thoughts were normal, or well above normal. Everything was smooth and polished, like a rock in a stream. But he felt more like a clawed crustacean, living in the eddy of that rock, collecting bits of stray organic scraps that fell into the eddy. Like a crawdad, a crayfish, a mudbug. And his natural instinct to back away quickly from anything that seemed troubling or able to disrupt his fragile existence did not help to dispel that perception. And so he went about his days, smiling and working hard to be exactly perfect, with just enough flaws to appear normal. It seemed important to occupy this little eddy of calm and temperance, and not stray out in the wildly moving stream of events flowing all about him.
Help this little guy with a name. See the blog for suggestions for early Quaker names. What would YOUR name be? If you don’t like the Quaker name that corresponds with your initials, come up with your own. Leave your name(s) in the comments, please.
PraiseofFolly 23 days ago
Now It Can Be Told: Sheldon J. Plankton eventually came of age in Bikini Bottom when he was told he was Whistler’s Brother. It diminished his self-esteem such that he literally shrank in size and turned to nefarious-ness: A retrospective episode of “SpongeBob SquarePants” portrays his true connection to the Plankton Family genealogy, as he reunites with Ma Plankton. (Get it? Got it? Good!)
Randy B Premium Member 23 days ago
Mmm, boy. A walking sloth-prawn?
3hourtour Premium Member 23 days ago
…the down side of falling in love with Aquaman…
… Turquoise Lad would soon be leaving for The Legion of Superheros…
…Earth 2 version…
…he and Power Girl would soon form a friendship based on cleavage and getting pearled necklaces…
…kids…right?…
…they and their best friend Bouncing Boy…
…[bad pun alert]
…would hit the bong…
…and go out to the clubs…
…but that was in the future…
…right now Turquoise Lad only needed a hug from Mom …and to ask the question…
…If bullets bouce off of Superman’s chest…
…how can he feel Lois’ hand when she puts it on his ‘S’ ?…
Ubintold 23 days ago
The result of her space alien encounter.
phritzg Premium Member 23 days ago
Teresa Burritt (Frog Applause) creator 23 days ago
A mother’s love is a mother’s love.
Brass Orchid Premium Member 23 days ago
Everybody loved Raymond. He was the most handsome child in his class at school. Bright, energetic, studious and polite. His mother quietly glowed with pride whenever in his presence. Whatever the future held, the present was a slice of heaven.
nancyb creator 23 days ago
Bigger clothes have bigger clothes moths.
Linguist 23 days ago
He had a face that only a mother could love … and then, only on payday!
UltraLameFest2 23 days ago
Just please don’t show us a picture of the father…
Howard'sMyHero 23 days ago
Randy B’s sloth-prawn then asks:
“Is it time for my therapy?” …!
Mike Baldwin creator 23 days ago
Of course not. What makes you think you were adopted?
pat sandy creator 23 days ago
Dad’s nowhere to be found so the Praying Mantis Sloth Bug Children’s Services had to get involved…
931st UAP Recon Squadron • "They Honk-Guano Tonks" 23 days ago
There was a very young whatsit from SumDoubt,
who’d left his topknot popped out.
Suddenly one day,
when left to his prey,
this proved a lethal stun-power of shout.
- from The Tiddly-Tothic Dynamic Compendium Vu-Cube of Self-Morphing, Semi-Sentient, Auto-Evolving, Bio-Engineered Partially-Toxic, 4D-Printed Toy Constructs of the 24th Century by Smutch Orgazno-Fongk, © 2392, Press Six for Leisure Plasmo Time, Ground Zero Sum Gains Co-op United
willie_mctell 23 days ago
“…that only a mother could love.”
coltish1. 23 days ago
A touch but not uncommon scene at the multi-species family home down the block. Love the decor!
6turtle9 23 days ago
Mama
Yes, my son.
I don’t feel well.
All dressed and ready for his first day at school, Junior, while feeling rather natty in his new duds, was tied in knots with apprehension. The Pepto-Bismal hadn’t helped, and now he feels a bit woozy, almost as if his oatmeal with cinnamon maggots were about to make a reappearance.
No matter how many times mother coached him, or how many bullying scenarios they play acted out, he just couldn’t shake this sense of impending doom, like the world was closing in on him, like he was falling down a well, like he was a toothpick boy inside an overstuffed marshmallow suit. Only his mother’s embrace would tamp down the terror, keep his heart from pounding through his chest, stop the uncontrolled sweating so it wouldn’t ruin his new onesie. How would he ever make it through the day? Stuffed inside a locker? Run up the flagpole by his underwear? Getting pants’d in the lunchroom?
Running through the endless scenarios only made it worse, of course. The teachers didn’t even seem to care, either, in fact, he swore they purposely turned the other way. Wasn’t the school motto All for One and One for All? All their kind only, it seemed. That he was smarter than they, even most of the teachers, didn’t help the situation. It was no comfort to see through their ignorant, petty ways and to pity them in their plight. He felt he had to constantly hide away who he was, what he was capable of, to the point that he often doubted who he really was or if it all was worth it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on like this. He feared he might just wither away and die, or worse yet, lash out in frightened anger and reveal what he tried so hard to keep hidden from them. It wouldn’t matter how incredible his talent was, they would only use it as fodder to further ostracize and belittle him. And where would he be then? What would he have achieved? No, better to keep it to himself, but this withering pain was so much to bear.
6turtle9 23 days ago
How could he maintain his sanity and his will to live? How could he endure to prove them all wrong, and to finally make his mother’s life a bit less brutal and undignified? He didn’t really want to hurt anyone; sure it would be great to see them choke on their words, but all he really wanted was to be away from there and to be done with their tedious banality. He had trouble seeing a way out, a way through it all, though. Some days he could barely even get out of bed; didn’t feel like eating or even breathing much. There must be something to break this stifling oppression? But what, his mother could do nothing but try and comfort him, his counselors were indifferent, even the holy man in town seemed to brush him off as delusional.
It was already three a.m., his alarm would be sounding soon, and another day of dread would begin. He had worried the night away with little chance of sleeping now, so he lie there in the silence and stared at the plastered walls, his nightlight casting light upon the trowel textured valleys and hills of his bedroom landscape. If he let himself stare dreamily without intent, it would often morph into a village or metropolis scene and he could amuse himself with the goings on. He almost thought he could hear someone speaking. Wait, was that his mother’s voice? No, surely she was still asleep, and it was clearly coming from inside the room. Very small, at first, and it sounded like it was trying to get his attention. What was it saying? So hard to make out.
Here? Is that what it was saying?Help? No, it was something more.
He pressed his ear against the cold stucco wall.
Something something help moo?
What? I replied, startling myself.
I Can Help You!
Brass Orchid Premium Member 22 days ago
While all things seemed perfect, he couldn’t help but feel like a monster. Nothing in his demeanor or countenance would betray it. Even his thoughts were normal, or well above normal. Everything was smooth and polished, like a rock in a stream. But he felt more like a clawed crustacean, living in the eddy of that rock, collecting bits of stray organic scraps that fell into the eddy. Like a crawdad, a crayfish, a mudbug. And his natural instinct to back away quickly from anything that seemed troubling or able to disrupt his fragile existence did not help to dispel that perception. And so he went about his days, smiling and working hard to be exactly perfect, with just enough flaws to appear normal. It seemed important to occupy this little eddy of calm and temperance, and not stray out in the wildly moving stream of events flowing all about him.
charles9156 22 days ago
where’s dad, the biologist?
Rotifer NOT GETTING RUBEN BOLLING’S PIN Thalweg Premium Member 22 days ago
Mama told me when I was young
“Come sit beside me, my only son”
3hourtour Premium Member 22 days ago
…‘tis was beautiful that killed the beast…
…Hey!…
…A.I. ! …
…here that?…
…hormones can make something grossly ugly….
…beautiful and majestic…
…can you compete with that?!?…
…try making good decisions with that going on…
…you are wise and everywhere…
…but can you make a great decision in the back seat of a car?…
…sure…
…you can kill us like we kill us…
… BUT! …
…can you stop right there!…
…before we go any farther do you love me?…
…will you love me forever…
…will you leave me?…
…I’m not saying you ‘mimic’ life….
…‘cuz perhaps that’s our gig, too…
…and I’m not saying you’re better or worse than us…
…what I’m saying is this …
…don’t waste your opportunity…
…read Frog Applause…
…now with 7.2% humanity…
…welcome my son…
…to the machine…
Howard'sMyHero 22 days ago
Although in a rush
I’ve read ALL that you’ve given
And here’s what I got …⁉️
( somehow a little Haiku seems to help )
Mad-ge Dish Soap 22 days ago
Stare and the stair case to heaven?
Mad-ge Dish Soap 22 days ago
Secret Agent Orange, The James Bond Agent 007…
Teresa Burritt (Frog Applause) creator 22 days ago
Help this little guy with a name. See the blog for suggestions for early Quaker names. What would YOUR name be? If you don’t like the Quaker name that corresponds with your initials, come up with your own. Leave your name(s) in the comments, please.
3hourtour Premium Member 20 days ago
…sure…
…Ted had it ruff…
…but the real freak was David….
…with his Pittsburgh shirt…
…and Michigan hat…
…his love of Love Boat…
…and Rufus Wainwright…
…Dave owns three Wendy’s, now…
…lives up on the new north end…
…in the house that looks like a castle from the back…
…foster cares…
…and works at Our Daily Bread on Tueday…
…what is wrong with him?…
…still wearing that Pittsburgh shirt & Michigan hat…
…the loser….
Teresa Burritt (Frog Applause) creator 20 days ago
New FA on its way. Sorry for the delay. (Hey, that rhymes.)